


Lost Boys of Starwood

by Catharrington, TaytheBae



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Punk, Angst, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Fluff, Gay Billy Hargrove, M/M, Mutual Pining, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Billy Hargrove, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23423221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catharrington/pseuds/Catharrington, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaytheBae/pseuds/TaytheBae
Summary: West Hollywood California was a lighthouse on the beach for Steve Harrington when he moved down from Nowhere, Indiana. But for Billy Hargrove it was a cage with golden bars kept locked by his father good and tight. They both found safety inside the darkness and splendor of Starwood, but will they be able to see the only way they can be truly found is through each other?
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 11
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this started as me being thirsty for headcanons, and then catharrington was a genius and brought up the amazing idea of punk!Billy in California, and well... Lost Boys of Starwood was born! I'm so excited to start sharing this story with y'all, so please let me know what you think :)
> 
> Also, if you're into punk music, totally check out the music in this fic! It's all LA based bands from the 1980s.

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” Billy grunted, trying to squirm his way out from between two massive bouncers. 

They ignored his shouts and threats, and continued to lead him outside. Once at the door, they threw him on to the street and slammed the door behind him.

“And fuck you too!” He gave one final middle finger at the closed door, and huffed before pulling out his almost empty pack of Lucky Strikes and lighting up a cigarette.

This night was turning out to be a bust. The few drinks he was able to pilfer from the bozos around the dance floor weren’t doing much more than giving him a light buzz. When Billy tried like hell to convince an older guy to buy him a shot of Jack, the old geezer got security involved. Billy had just slid his hand up the meat of this guy's inner thigh a little, nothing big. No one is ever down for a good time any more. 

Thankfully, the lights of Hollywood Blvd never turned off.

He walked slowly, hands stuffed down inside the pockets of his tight denim, sweat from the club slowly drying on his naked chest. Billy left the top buttons open, even out on the street, wouldn’t want anyone to miss the show. 

In his short year of exploration of the strip, Billy was proud to say he had been in each club at least once. Usually he was able to get lots of beer in his belly and a hand on his ass before he got caught and kicked out for being 17. He didn’t look it though, hand to god. He could pass for older, no problem, the earring and cocky smirk only aiding in the ruse. It’s just he didn’t have a fake ID, and, whilst Billy hid his age, he never hid his loose sexual orientation. Some clubs were okay with it and some were not, to say the least. The ones that didn’t care played the music that Billy craved. The angry lyrics, the loud guitar, the volume breaking the metal from the speakers as quick as they can, that’s the music Billy needed in his veins. 

Taking slow drags from his cigarette, head down and debating about going home for the night, Billy started hearing some halfway decent music. He turned up his head to the sound of hard drums and a fast guitar start up, followed by an angry voice practically screaming _I don’t wanna live to be thirty-four._

 _  
_Billy was definitely intrigued, and so he followed the music to another club. The neon sign naming the bar as “Starwood” and proclaiming the night’s guest to be a band called _The Circle Jerks_. Between the music and the name, Billy couldn’t find one reason to resist as he steered towards the doors. The chaos of the loud music at a shitty bar seemed exactly the kind of excitement buzzed Billy was craving so deeply. 

Just as he was poised to go in, Billy faltered in his step as a towering brick wall of a man covered the doorway. His one hand pushed the heavy door open, while the other was almost closed in a fist around a bloodied up man's throat. They walked out farther into the sidewalk, with the bouncer dragging the other man like a doll. 

There was a heavy thrill in seeing this fight and getting a look at the full sleeves of ink up and down the bouncer’s arms, but Billy knew an opportunity when he sees one. Billy used the distraction to dive for the quickly closing door. 

Inside Starwood wasn’t much. The hallway was painted black to filter out light and the floor was scuffed from use to be just as dark. Multiple layers of faded posters glued to the walls on either side were a buffer to the noise, but not a good one. 

Billy let his hands slide alongside the short hallway as his ears lead him around a corner into a thick mass of bodies. 

As soon as he entered the main area of the bar, he was overwhelmed in the best way. The music was loud and fast, the bodies were sweaty and constantly in motion, and the booze was pouring freely. It was a hell of an atmosphere. For the first time in a long while, Billy felt at home. 

It was easy to slide between the dancing bodies towards the bar in the back. He hung back, read the crowd, and easily snuck over to a particularly crowded spot at the bar. 

He tucked himself just behind a thin woman who was already slurring her speech and snatched the neck of a beer bottle right under her nose. She was too busy leaning forward into the space of another girl talking with her hands to notice the thief, and once Billy took enough steps away she would have no reason to suspect a thing.

Sometimes people let their guard down too easily at a bar, and while Billy knew about that, thankfully he just wanted to get drunk tonight. He cleaned off the lip of the bottle with the hem of his shirt before gulping it down. 

There was a uniquely shaped stage on the other side of the large room, taking up almost the whole wall but was narrow. The band performing that night had the singer squashed between a massive drum set and a guitarist who held a wide power stance in tight leather pants that fit him like a second skin. The singer didn’t seem to have a care in the world as he bumped and even grinded against his guitarist's ass during a long and heavy solo. 

This bar kept getting better and better to Billy. He wondered for a moment if he would have luck with what he attempted in his previous escapade. He had leaned up against a support beam covered in stickers and something sticky, but he didn’t care about that, nothing he hadn’t felt before in other places like this. 

Sea blue eyes scanned around the dark room hunting like a shark. 

Then he saw someone, a lanky boy, fresh as a daisy but rushed and sweating behind the bar. He had long brown hair that seemed to float above his head like a damn halo, and brown eyes that were just as big. From where Billy was standing all the lights of the stage reflected off those eyes, rainbows of colors. And when the boy slid a glass down the bar top and smiled, it was just as fantastic. 

A boy that pretty shouldn’t be in a place like this, where the floor was basically one big puddle and the paint was peeling. He belonged on the cover of those magazines his step-mother Susan reads. Billy wanted to get his lips on that smile. 

He chugged the last of the beer and marched over to the bar, waiting for a minute until it seemed that the bartender, with eyes like that damned cartoon deer Bambi, had a second to stop and wipe his hands down with a rag. Then Billy took his shot. 

He caught the boy’s attention with a small gesture, and he had to yell over the noise, but he didn’t really care who heard.

“Hey, fuck me if I’m wrong, but is your name Bambi?”

He heard a couple hoots and cheers from the small gathering around the bar, but all he got from the boy was an eye roll before he strutted to the other side of the bar to continue working. Bambi it was going to be then, his goal for the night, and oh was it going to be a fun chase. 

He didn’t get to keep good on his goal however, because after staring at Bambi, or rather Bambi’s ass, for no more than a minute and debating his next move, Billy felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, and came face to face with a person who was so clearly a skinhead, and not the nice kind judging by the nazi ring and the white laces in his boots, it made Billy’s buzz fade. 

He’d dealt with assholes like this at other bars, but he really didn’t want to go home with more bruises. It couldn’t be helped though, when the bald bastard leaned in close and spit “You a fucking fairy?” in Billy’s face. 

Billy’s jaw flexed. This man was obviously bigger than him, but Billy wasn’t a push over. Hours under the sun surfing through unforgiving waves, weight lifting, and getting into more fights than he would care to remember has left him with an impressive physique of his own. Billy knew he was cut. And he knew how to win a fight. It wasn’t always about bigger or stronger but sometimes about the tricks. 

“Who’s asking, big guy? Looking for a good time?” Billy flicked his eyes back across the bar just for a second to make sure that Bambi’s eyes were fixed on him. Their brown color now sparkling with something intense as they connected. “Sorry but I’m taken for the night-,“

“Can’t fucking go anywhere these days without some faggot trying to suck dick in public. You’re disgusting!” 

Billy couldn’t keep his smile under control, practically baring his teeth at this point. “You wanna watch me suck his dick, fella? Promise I’ll make it a show.” Then Billy’s tongue darted out to swipe along his bottom lip rapidity, wagging suggestively, and it was turning the bald head on this bastard bright red. 

The skinhead hollered loud over all the music and noise of the bar, then lifted two hands gripped together like a makeshift club, fully ready to swing at Billy’s head of curls. 

But then, the man’s shout was cut short. His anger boiled over so he was attacking all offense, leaving no room for defense. Billy easily ducked to the side and lifted his arm to push hard at the back of his sweaty, ugly head, successfully sending the thick skull into the top of the bar with a sickening crunch. That must be his nose, Billy had heard that noise many times before. 

The skinhead crumbled to the ground, whimpering pathetically as he tried to stop the blood flowing from his face. Another man at the bar was lumbering over to haul the man up, maybe another security guy, maybe the same one from the door, Billy wasn’t watching. He only had eyes for Bambi, turning and smiling slowly to stare at the bartender. 

The sweet brunette bartender had obviously heard and seen what Billy did, and it worked like a charm. He leaned one hand on the bar and another against his hip, fingers coiled tight around where his shirt was tucked into tight denim jeans. 

“Nice show,” he said. He had his head leaned down to look at Billy but his chin cocked up, like he was sizing him up. “Got a name?”

“Billy! The name’s Billy, pretty boy. But you can call me any time,” he had to yell over the music that hadn’t stopped.

“Order a drink, Billy. Whatever you want, it’s on the house.”

“You on the menu?” Billy asked. Bambi clearly hadn’t expected him to try and flirt so blatantly again, blinking a couple of times as if to process what he had meant.

“Sorry Billy, not tonight. How ‘bout a beer?” His voice was loud from having to holler over the sounds of the bar, but somehow soft and spoken just into Billy’s ear. It felt almost like a caress. 

Billy’s smile turned to a grin, at least this time wasn’t an out-right rejection. It could only be a matter of time before he wormed his way into Bambi’s heart, or at least his sinnfully tight jeans. 

“In that case, what about a Dirty Shirley?” Billy said, licking his bottom lip.

“How about a good ol’ Moscow Mule?” Bambi hollered back, a light chuckle in his voice.

“I think I’d much rather a Quick Fuck.” Billy watched as Bambi’s eyes glinted mischievously under the harsh lights of the bar. 

“I know just the drink for you.” 

He then proceeded to mix together three different types of alcohol from the bottles lining the back wall. He poured it all into a little shot glass and placed it in front of Billy with a flourish.

“Well, pretty boy, what’s it called?” Billy asked, trying not to seem too eager, but fuck if this wasn’t the most fun he’d had in while. 

Bambi finally leaned over the bar towards Billy, and whispered in his ear. Soft rose petal lips tickled the blond hairs curled around the lobe of his ear. 

“It’s called Blue Balls,” Bambi pulled away, looking like the cat who got the cream, not realizing that his snark had only cemented Billy’s determination to win him over.

With one quick move, Billy downed the shot easily and stood up. 

“You got me, Bambi, I guess I can handle a little blue balls tonight, but next time I’m really hoping for that Quick Fuck,” and with that promise of a return, Billy strode deeper into the club, thinking; 

_You may have won this battle, Bambi, but I’m gonna win the war._


	2. Chapter 2

Since that first night, Billy had become a regular at Starwood. Steve would never admit that he looks forward to the nights where he spotted the curly blond hair amongst the crowd of sweaty bodies, but he couldn’t deny that his heart beat a little faster, and he couldn’t stop the tiny smile that appeared on his face. 

Not many people would notice the slight changes, but Robin, Starwood’s other bartender, immediately put it together, and started teasing Steve mercilessly. 

Billy would start each night greeting Steve and flirting openly like “You on the menu tonight, Bambi?” Or “What’s ladies night special, cocktail?” Or “Let me kiss you, pretty boy?” 

That was the fourth day he had come in, the fourth time Robin and Steve even knew of Billy's existence, and the first time Robin saw Steve’s eyes go that wide. He really did resemble Bambi, she admired. 

That night Billy was leaning over on the bar, light denim jacket open to a clean white shirt, and bent over so that his ass was in full display. Thankfully, Steve thought, he couldn’t see that ass from where he was standing behind the counter rubbing down a glass and trying not to blush. 

“Come on, babe, I see the way you look when I’m out there having some fun,” Billy’s eyes were blue and narrowed as he licked that wicked tongue across his lips. “All pretty and jealous at that bachelorette party last night. They got really handsy when they got wasted.” And as if to jog Steve’s memory Billy let his jacket down one shoulder, revealing his cut off sleeve and the swell of his golden bicep. 

Steve swallowed. He definitely remembered the bachelorette party. He had been swamped and stuck at the bar, but even the throng of people couldn’t mask the golden curls or deliciously tan skin Steve had caught glimpses of. 

Billy had removed his trademark jacket, leaving him in a tight a-line tank top. His skin shined with sweat, toned muscles on display for well manicured womanly hands to get their feel. It had been utterly unfair, and Steve had messed up at least one drink that night.

“Want me to act like a handsy middle aged woman?” Steve set the glass back into the tray across the bar before he flicked his eyes to Billy. He let his tongue dart out as he considered how fun that sounded. Getting his hands around those swollen muscles, squeezing, the itch made Steve trail his fingers down the bar closer towards Billy’s own. 

Billy kept rock solid, his grin dangerously wide. “Nah, not your style, Bambi. I think you seem the type to scratch in the sack.”

And god, that sent shivers up Steve’s spine. He stopped his fingers an inch from Billy’s forearm as it leaned against the wood of his bar. His bar, Steve tried to remind himself, as he pulled his hand back. Tried not to think about the way his nails scratched the old wood as they went. 

“Want me to make you the best Sex on a Beach you’ve ever had?” He asked. 

Billy was disappointed, but not enough to let up. “I don’t know, I’ve had a lot of sex on the beach. You really want to compete?” 

Steve’s smile was bright and his voice was loud to match the music playing. “It’s not even a competition, stud.” Then he turned to mix up the drink and kept the second long flash of Billy delight at his comment filed away for later. 

There was a little wolf whistle from next to Billy, an older man who winked knowingly, but most of the patrons were regulars who knew the cat and mouse game. 

Billy tried to keep his smile under control as he watched Steve’s practiced ease of drink mixing. Just as he finished and turned around to slip the fruity monstrosity onto a napkin for Billy, there was a slight change in atmosphere at the bar. 

Another man slid up beside Billy, his shoulders hunched and pale face turned downwards. Billy’s body prepare for a fight as a defensive measure to the strangeness, but there was something morose about him and not so much threatening, so Billy kept himself in check. 

“Hey,” Steve greeted the man, leaning closer with two hands on the bar counter, looking attentive, “Barry, right? Haven’t seen you in a second. Wanna order?” 

The man, Barry was his name Billy supposed, smiled something that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, I’m not here to drink. I just want to talk.” Billy had his lips around his straw and was listening intently. “It’s about me… uh, I’m having some,” Barry tried to continue but the words were slow. He sounded like he was pushing them out. “Some tests done. Just wanted to let you know in case anyone was… scared.” 

Steve seemed to instantly get what Barry was trying to say. He reached out a hand and cupped his fingers over Barry’s pale wrist. “Thank you for letting us know.” He squeezed. Barry just looked down at that hand like it was the only thing holding him to the earth. 

Robin was hovering around Steve’s shoulder, her eyes wide and concerned, but her jaw set hard. She was mulling over what to say to Barry when she was interrupted by a short intake of breath. 

“That takes some guts man, you must be really brave.” Billy’s voice for once wasn’t laced in humor. It was serious as he ducked his head into Barry’s space to talk above the music. “Remember to stay strong, listen to those damn doctors, and know you’ve got people here thinking about you. This shit isn’t easy.” 

Then his hand curled in a comforting way around Barry’s thin shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze, before dropping back down to his drink. 

Steve couldn’t stop the way his heart swelled in his chest.

“Thanks a lot,” Barry choked out, “really you guys this means so much. I’m… well, I’ve got someone waiting for me at home. I just wanted to let you know. Thanks again.” Then he turned and left as quietly as he came in. 

Robin was dumbstruck looking over Steve’s shoulder. Billy just continued sipping his drink and eyefucking her friend. She looked to Steve to see what his reaction to the whole scene had been, but he was just about as dumbstruck as she had been. He just stared right back at Billy. 

She sighed and decided to cut him some slack this time. She looked around and then patted Steve on the shoulder. 

“Hey Bambi,” she hollered over the music, “There's a group over there that would probably love a cocktail from The Strip’s Best Bartender. Go on.” She pushed him down the bar to the other end, where a group of skater chics were lounging on the bar. He stumbled, but managed to right himself and take the girls’ orders and quickly began whipping up some intense looking drinks. 

Once he was settled, Robin turned back to where Billy sat. The eyefucking was gone, replaced again by a more somber expression. “What’s up Blondie? You gonna tell me to beat it?” He muttered around his straw. 

“What the fuck? No, dingus. I was gonna say I really appreciated what you said back there. Barry used to be a real regular at the bar, but since he’s gotten sick it’s been really hard on the guy. You’re pretty chill, Bill.”

His expression melted into his standard joking face, and just like that, Robin and Billy became partners in crime; mercilessly teasing Steve everytime Billy came to visit or gossiping about people together.

It was one of those times that the truth came out. 

Billy and Robin had been gabbing about girls, when Billy let slip, “yeah, the high school girls are all cows, I swear.” 

Robin's eyes widened and her mouth formed a little o shape. “High school girls?” She repeated the words back to him with fluttering eyelashes. 

The smile melted off Billy’s face just a little. He hadn’t meant to let that slip, but he wasn’t about to try and hide anything from such a welcoming group of people. 

“Uh, yeah Blondie. High school girls. That’s what I said,” Billy repeated. 

“As in, girls you are in high school with?”

“Unfortunately.” 

Robin blinked owlishly a few more times, then shrugged. “Okay, well. I’m not your mom, so I can’t really tell you what to do. I am going to say that _you_ have to tell _him,”_ She said, pointing over at Steve. 

Billy swallowed heavily, his mouth suddenly feeling too dry. “Now?” He didn’t want to hide his age, but damn if he wasn’t scared of getting a reaction.

“Yeah, dingus. Now.” 

Grabbing his drink in his fist, Billy gulped the rest of it down hard. This would be a great time for some liquid courage to kick in. He chanced a look down the bar to see Steve’s eyes flick downwards and a blush coloring his pretty cheeks. The alcohol was warm on it’s way down, and Billy used his empty glass as an excuse as he stood up and swaggered his way towards him. 

He set down the glass loud against the old wood bar, and smiled at him, hoping it came across as charming rather than scared shitless, which he was currently feeling. 

“You like my drinks that much Billy?” Steve chuckled.

“Hell yeah, Pretty Boy. You know you’re the best bartender around.”

Steve just rolled his eyes, the joke he hears that a lot goes without saying, but there is still a slight turn up of his pretty lips. This time Steve puts aside Billy’s empty glass and trades it for a long beer pint. “Let’s take it a little easier, you’ve already had a couple. Don’t want you doing anything stupid tonight.” Steve’s fingers lingered across the now cold glass as he presented the beer on the wood. 

The bartender's eyebrow quirked as he thought of something, then turned to a small cutting board just a reach away. 

With a soft cut and a softer push on the rim of the glass, Steve presented a little orange slice for Billy’s edge. His eyes were sparkling with so much pride and humor, it made the lights from the stage look cheap. 

Billy really couldn’t get enough of looking into those eyes. 

“I’m 17,” he blurted out. If he wasn’t going to say it now then it would never come out, Billy knew that. He wasn’t good with words, or knowing what the right thing to do was. But he was good with flirting, so he curled his mouth into a particularly wolfish grin. 

Steve’s eyes were cartoon deer wide. “Come again?” His lips pursed. 

“Don’t wanna keep anything from you, Bambi, now that we are getting all nuzzled up.” Billy dipped his head to take a small drink of his beer without taking his eyes off Steve’s shocked face. 

“Woah, okay, woah!” The cloth he was using to wipe down glasses snapped as Steve whipped it to rest over his shoulder. He pointed an angry look at Billy, who was still sheepishly trying to hide behind the rim of his beer. 

“17?”

“Yeah, babe.”

“You can’t be here!” That made Billy’s heart drop. After coming and worshiping at this bar so religiously, basically kneeling at Bambi’s pretty feet, that’s the sentence he gets. 

Trying to push down the stabbing betrayal in his gut, Billy opened his mouth to reply, but he found he couldn’t, as a hard hand clasped over his shoulder. 

Looking up, he saw the bouncer from the first day he stumbled into Starwood. A burly tattooed man named Tony, who Billy had grown to know friendly just like Robin. The anger on his big brow was all part of the job. In reality, Tony was a big soft man who would rather hug someone than punch them, and Billy had found himself at the receiving end of more than one of those hugs. It earned him the play from his nickname: Tony the Tiger, to something more Billy-flavored; Tony the Kitten, just a big ball of tattooed fluff. 

“What’s going on here you two? Lover’s spat?” Tony teased. Billy and Steve both turned bright red at the insinuation. 

But while Billy remained silent and glared at his beer, Steve began to sputter cute noises until finally reaching, “He’s fucking 17, Tony! How was he let in here in the first place?”

Tony narrowed his eyes and stared at the bartender, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought.

“Why do you care so much, Steve? It’s not really a big deal?” He asked, voice slow and deep. 

“Yes! It is Tony! He shouldn’t be in a place like this.” Steve waved his hand around guestiring towards the stage and colored lights covered bodies hot from dancing. “He should be doing homework… or studying like a good high school student!” 

That caught Billy’s attention finally. “Excuse me, Bambi? I am a straight ‘A’ student for your information.”

Steve’s face was pulled tight, like he was sucking on sour candy. His look wasn't attractive, but it was cute, in a spoiled cat sort of way. “It doesn’t matter, _Billy._ You’re still too young to be in a bar like this!” 

Robin sauntered over as Steve’s voice rose in octave. “Dingus!” She clapped Steve over the back of his head, sending fluffy brown hair bouncing into the air. “What’s the big deal? So he’s 17. Being here isn’t affecting his grades or anything. Let the kid stay.” 

Tony nodded along, crossing his inked arms across his broad chest. “I agree. If you really want to kick the kid out, you’re gonna have to do it yourself. I ain’t doing it.” 

Steve looked between Robin and Tony a couple times, cheeks a heavy dusting of rose red as he flustered about, before finally settling on Billy. He grabbed the towel off his shoulder and pointed with it balled tight in his hand. 

“Fine. Stay. I’m not serving you alcohol anymore though.”

“But Cocktail! Who else will give me such a good Sex on the Beach?” Billy grinned, finally gaining some of his confidence back since Steve wasn’t fighting on him staying anymore. 

Steve blushed an even brighter red, and shook his head. He stormed away from Billy and the rest of the bar staff to the other side of the bar, then started wiping down the counter furiously.

“Don’t worry Billy-Boy. I’ll still serve you, no matter what tight ass says.” Robin said with a wink. 

Billy wasn’t worried, per say. He was relieved he wasn’t thrown out on his ass, of course, but he wished he hadn’t said his age at all. If lying meant that his Bambi wouldn’t turn and run away from him, maybe Billy should have kept lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to rant and scream in the comments, or come find me on tumblr [here](https://harringrovetrashh.tumblr.com) or catharrington [here](https://catharrington.tumblr.com).


	3. Chapter 3

Working at Starwood was one of the greatest things Steve was able to snag for himself when he moved down to Sunnyville, California. Or rather West Hollywood. It was much better than the shoe box size apartment he was able to rent on the same block as the bar, luckily in his price range. 

His job felt like a separate and safe place, a place to relax, away from his college courses. Steve was majoring in business just as his father ordered, just as his father campaigned for and just as he funded. While Steve was here he had a little allowance and his schooling was taken care of, but greater than all those things, Steve had pride in his job at Starwood. 

Still, though, he schooled himself to bend to his father's wishes. 

It was his day off from the bar and Steve had his nose buried in thick textbooks. Business classes were not easy and Steve didn’t exactly have the best track record for high grades. His father might have even bribed him into the school. Thankfully Steve possessed the amazing power to thrive under pressure, if he put his nose to it, the things just got done. He relied on that a lot during tests, but sometimes it was good to knuckle down and study. 

Behind him his vinyl record player scratched to the end as he dragged the tip of a yellow highlighter across his notes. He sighed, pushing a hand through his messy hair, before getting up to reset some background music. 

Just as he had his hand around another record, his phone rang. Something didn’t feel right in the night air, something was stale and copper tasting. Steve went to his little plastic kitchen phone and picked the receiver off the wall carefully. 

“Hello?” He didn’t mean for it to come as a whisper. 

“Steve,” Robin's voice was breathless as she spoke, quickly, in trouble. “Hey man, I know it’s your day off but… something happened. I’m not really sure who to call?” She was hesitant and that was out of character for Robin. It went without saying because Steve could feel it in his bones but she continued talking. “It’s Billy, damn kid. He’s here but it’s like he isn’t here. He’s really upset about something. I was thinking… if you could?”

There wasn’t a need to think, “Yeah, Robs, yeah of course I’ll come down.” Steve kept his voice low as he replied. He lifted the phone to hang up quickly with a light click. 

There was a sparkle of electricity between his fingers, almost making them stick together. He knew he shouldn’t be around Billy, he had spent so long scolding himself for even thinking about the other, but there was that magnetism pulling him to go. 

Just thinking about the boy glistening in sunlight bouncing golden curls was enough. But now thinking of him darkened, upset at something, and reaching out in a bar of all places. That pulled a shaky breath from Steve’s chest. 

His books and studying were left open on the table as he collected his coat and stormed out. 

Starwood was loud and bright, the same glistening Star it always was. Steve’s chest untightened just from walking up. He smiled seeing Tony’s grimace melt a little as he stepped aside and opened the door up for Steve. 

Inside, Dead Kennedys were up for the night’s entertainment. Jello Biafra was screaming about anarchy, backed by frantic guitar chords and pounding drums. Usually this music was like a drug inside Steve’s veins, made his blood pump faster and warmed him up all at the same time, but now it was aggravating, adding to the maze of sights and sounds hiding Billy from him.

Steve pushed and shoved his way through the frantic mass of bodies to the bar, where he found Robin waiting for him.

“Dingus,” she greeted, voice devoid of any humor which usually accompanied the insult, “you’ve got to do something about this train wreck.” She pointed a finger over at the dance floor. Steve whipped his head to follow and saw Billy in all his raging glory. 

Billy was flexing sunkissed biceps as he clutched someone’s shirt and pressed them up against his chest. His cherub face twisted into a snarl and his golden rings were frizzy, creating a dangerous image on par with that of avenging angels. 

Just as Billy pulled back his fist to punch the person’s lights out, Steve ran over to them and grabbed Billy’s shoulder. The blond dropped the man he had been intimidating to whirl around and spit at whoever had disturbed him. Steve thought that perhaps once Billy recognized him, the boy would calm down, but on the contrary, he bristled further. 

“The fuck? I thought tonight was your night off?” Billy shot at Steve, words dripping with venom. Steve had never seen him like this. Yes, Billy was angry and violent and a true punk at heart, but it had never been without direction. At the government, at racists or faciousits or general scumbags, or at anyone who thought to look at Billy’s ‘people’ the wrong way. 

But now? Billy reminded Steve of a wild tiger broken out of its cage, frothing at the mouth and ready to take anyone down with it. 

This isn’t right. Steve thought, this isn’t him. Then, Billy pushed Steve back, put his calloused hands on Steve’s shoulders and gave just enough force to cause him to step back. It was then the lights from the stage moved just enough for Steve to see Billy’s face clear. His lip was split down the middle, a ragged cut along his cheekbone, and the beginnings of a truly nasty black eye. 

Steve’s shock must have shown on his face, because just as quickly blond hair covered the damage again and Billy bumped his shoulder into Steve as he attempted to brush past the bartender. 

Steve couldn’t let him go like this though, left alone with wounds that would fester and bubble inside and out. He lunged out and grabbed Billy’s shoulder once more, this time tugging on it to get the boy to turn around. 

“Can we please talk?” Steve yelled over the sounds of the guitar speeding up. 

“No. Fucking let go of me.” Billy tried to struggle out of Steve’s hold, but he just grabbed on tighter. 

“Not until you talk to me. Billy, please?”

“Jesus fuck. Fine!” He hollered. “We're gonna talk right here or you got somewhere a little quieter?” 

“We can go to the back, come on.” Steve shifted his grip from Billy’s shoulder to grab his hand and led him through the throng of people. He dropped it once they reached the door to the back storage room, and pulled out a key. 

Inside the storage room was lined with boxes all the way up two walls, right in the middle was a small wooden table and chairs that had seen much better days. Illuminating the cozy dark space was the glow from a bathroom off one side, the orange light still on, and casting the rest in a spetural glow. Steve pulled Billy in by the grip still on his hand and pushed the boy towards the single person bathroom. 

“Wanted to fuck me in the bathroom you could ‘a just asked,” Billy’s voice was a raw laugh trying to jab and insult as much as he could. 

Steve could tell the boy must already have alcohol in his veins, and there was the smell on his breath as well. His jacket was missing again, lost to the throng of bodies and heat outside that Steve needed to claim him from. 

“Shut up,” was all he said before he pushed Billy to stand up against the bathroom’s old metal stall wall while Steve fumbled around at the sink. He unrolled a handful of paper towels and slightly dampened them in a poor man's washcloth. A poor man's first aid kit, Steve considered, but it was what they had. 

He moved back over to where Billy was quietly leaning against the dirty stall, his head down and one of his arms up to shield himself. His back turned to Steve. He watched for a moment before he whispered, “Billy?” Waiting for the boy to turn around. But he didn’t. 

“Billy?” He tried again, and his bare shoulders flexed, the one arm perched up scratched blunt nails into the metal of the stall, but he didn’t move. 

Tired, annoyed, and a lot worried, Steve finally pushed himself into Billy’s space. He ducked under Billy’s arm and let himself get pinned between Billy and the wall. He looked up into eyes closed tightly. Like this their breath mingled and Billy’s stank of alcohol but was warm, so warm against Steve’s jaw and down his neck. 

He smelt the musky cologne the boy wore heavy every day. Steve found himself chasing the moments when he leaned across the bar and he got a smell of darkened spices, but now, almost pressed together in this small bathroom, Steve could taste it on his tongue. He imagined just for a moment how easy it would be to lean in and lick a strip of that golden skin from Adam’s apple to jaw line, let himself get drunk off that scent of Billy, but he quickly caught himself. 

Billy was 17, he shouldn’t even be in this bar, let alone coming here to alleviate frustrations on whatever marked his face. 

Steve gulped a shaky breath of cologne once more before he lifted the damp paper towel to Billy’s face. 

“Watch it,” the boy hissed as the cloth dabbed at his cut lips. Steve just kept trying to pick at the dried blood leaving a trail across his mouth and over his chin. This couldn’t be more than a few hours old, Steve realized, as he pushed at plump lips and the cut bled again. 

He kept dabbing until the blood was cleaned, then he folded the paper towel over and pressed the cold to his blackened eye. There were already purples and reds painting his skin, and right under his long lashes was the darkest shade of black. Billy hissed again but didn’t move away.

“Someone caught you flirting with their girlfriend?” Steve finally breathed out. He felt like he had been holding his breath for so long. His voice was only slightly louder than his heart beating. When Billy kept quiet he sighed. “Flirting with their boyfriend?”

Billy’s nose flared in a snort. He shook out those messy curls but didn’t move much away from Steve’s helping hands. “I’d put a bastard in their place. You know that.” Then his bright blue eyes flicked up from where they were digging a hole into the concrete floor. 

“And I wasn’t flirting with anyone while my favorite pretty boy had the day off. You know that.”

Steve gave him back a meek smile, and tried to force his heart to stop fluttering so fast he couldn’t hear over the blood rushing past his ears. “We talked about that, stud. Not tonight.” Then Billy’s eyes dropped and it was Steve who caused him pain this time. But it was a pain he needed to feel. 

“I think I’m good now,” Billy huffed his chest, “you can head on back out to whatever the fuck you were-“

Steve’s hand pushed a little hard against the purple across his eyebrow. Billy’s words cut off with a hiss, and thank god, those eyes flicked back up to Steve’s face. 

“What happened, Billy?” Steve pressed into his space with eyes sparking in sincerity and concern. And just as quick as they came his eyes turned back down to the floor. Steve was beginning to think this was an ingrained thing one round of fists wouldn’t have caused. 

Looking at Billy’s downturned eyes and practiced self defensive stance a familiarity of the situation jumped into the back of his throat, burning his tongue like vomit. 

“Someone at home did this to you?” He asked softly. 

Billy’s eyes widened in fear. His whole body gave a shudder and Steve could feel it where he was standing almost skin to skin with him. 

“It’s okay,” he said out quickly. He chucked the paper towel absentmindedly into the toilet next to them. 

And then Steve threw his caution to the wind and wrapped his hands around Billy’s neck. Just his hands, and he let just his fingers play with the ends of soft blond hair. His arms were folded between them, and Billy never moved. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, I get it.” Steve reassured him with a voice as sweet as honey. “This is safe. You are safe here.”

Too many beats of his heart go by before Steve sees Billy look up again, his blue eyes an ocean in the middle of the storm, darkened and wet with tears. 

He shouldn’t be touching Billy anywhere, he shouldn’t be in a bathroom stall touching a 17 year old boy, but Steve cannot stop his hands as they find a handful of blond hair. He lifted and pulled his fingers all the way through, then moved his fingers back up to lift the hair again. Billy’s breath hitches and tears that were dammed spill down his flustered cheeks. 

Steve is well aware a steady rhythm is helpful in controlling the feeling of losing everything, he’s had to count down from 100 and list objects in a spinning room enough times. 

“It’s okay,” he says again just to watch Billy’s eyes sparkle. 

Their breathing synchronises in the stuffy bathroom stall, warm breath hitting Steve’s chin hard enough to give him shivers, but steady for the first time tonight. 

“Your name is Billy, and you are so wanted here. You are so wanted by everyone here.” Another word tries to work it’s way into Steve’s soft reassurances but he wills it away. “You deserve to be safe and wanted, please know that, Billy.” 

And Steve’s talking to the boy in front of him and to himself 4 years ago who let that little boy in Indiana let his panicked breathing threaten to break from his rib cage just like Billy’s was earlier. If Steve could help, if he could save Billy from this pain he knew too well, he was going to do everything in his power to do so. 

“You deserve happiness,” he whispered right into Billy’s busted lip. His hands still laced on a soft lock of blond hair pulling it then letting go to pick it up again in a steady motion, his eyes locked with blue ocean colored eyes. The tides of the storm were receding now, softening to the light color that made Steve’s heart swim. 

When Billy spoke, “Bambi,” his voice was corse, and it was obvious he had been crying. But all the anger was gone. He squeezed his eyes shut like he was trying to control himself. 

“Thanks, Bambi,” he pushed himself off the wall with a creaking of metal and stiff joints. The space in front of Steve goes cold in less than a second as Billy leaves him. Steve has to stop himself from reaching out for his white muscle shirt. Instead he just clutches onto his own shirt over his heart. 

Billy goes to the sink to splash water on his face. He looked up into the mirror with a sadder smile than Steve ever wanted to see on his California spitfire. 

Their eyes catch in the mirror. 

“That happens a lot?” Steve found himself asking. 

Billy scoffed, his nose flaring again, while he dragged wet fingers through his curls. “Nah, nothing happened, pretty boy.” 

And okay, Steve is confused. “Nothing happened? What about your face?” 

Billy stood from the mirror and walked close to where Steve was left standing. “This,” he motions to the bruises coloring his face, “isn’t something to talk about, right? It’s mine to deal with. Thanks for your help but… I’ve got it.” And with that, Billy walked out the door, his usual swagger back in place. 

-

“I just… I don’t understand, Robin.” Steve spoke slowly and his hair was a frizzy mess from him pushing it around. “Four years ago I was desperate for someone to notice- someone to understand me and talk to me on my level.”

Robin took a sip of her margarita as she thought of her response. They had taken up residence at a local mexican hole-in-the-wall restaurant for lunch the day after Billy’s meltdown. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed Stevie, but our boy’s not much of a feelings person.” She clicked her tongue. 

“I guess?” Steve’s hands found their way into his hair again. His eyes widen as he continues ranting, “It’s just bothering me so much. I don’t know how to help him. What if something happens and I’m not there? What if next time, it’s not just a black eye?” 

“Whoa momma bear. Billy’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“You didn’t see him Robin. I can’t just ignore a night like that.” He paused, looking down at his chimichanga and pushing his rice around with his fork.

A soft silence counted down until Robin's voice spoke up. “I’m thinking there’s more to your angst fit than just Billy getting beat up. What’s going on?” She nudged his foot under the table to get him to look at her.

“I have a problem. I started having… feelings about him. More than just wanting to protect him.” He paused to take a sip of his own margarita, hoping to give himself a little boost of courage for his next statement.”

“I think I like him, Robs.” 

She levels a glare at him. “Well duh, dingus. He’s awesome, and you like, light up everytime he comes in. It’s pretty obvious that you two get along.”

“No, Robin.” Steve shoves his fork into the side of his food with a stab. “I think I like, really like him. In the ‘I want to take you on a date and pound you into the mattress until you can’t speak’ type of like him.”

Robin leaned back in the tattered booth of the Mexican restaurant. Her eyes fluttering in thoughts and her mouth again a cute o shape. 

Steve couldn’t take looking at her so he dragged his hands backwards through his hair then pressed his palms against his eyes. She didn’t need to say it out loud, he was in trouble.


	4. Chapter 4

What Steve had come to call the ‘Chimichanga Revelation’, even though it had been growing long before him and Robin sat at the tattered booth of the Mexican restaurant, had made a rather large impact. 

Steve had done some deep soul searching at 3am while listening to Joan Jett & The Blackhearts’ album Glorious Results of a Misspent Youth. It had been his comfort album ever since he had heard Frustrated, but he had conveniently forgotten about the first song. 

As soon as Cherry Bomb’s opening riff came blasting through his record player, he had spiralled into deep contemplation about having a blossoming crush on a fucking 17 year old. 

Steve was laid out across his couch, one arm draped over his eyes and the other dragging his knuckles against the carpet. The music of Joan Jett pushed out of his vinyl record player speakers loud and rough. Angry in a way akin to how Steve’s stomach was twisting and churning against itself as he thought. 

Then, as Joan crooned out “when I’m with you I can’t control myself”, he lifted his arm off his eyes. He held his palm out over his face to eclipse the living room’s single bare bulb light. 

“This can’t happen.” And a heart wrenching plan began to form with that statement. He ached at the thought of what he would have to force himself to do, but it was the only way to protect the teenager. 

Going into work the next morning felt like a test, of not only his exhaustion but his ability to stick to his plan. Steve dragged his feet as he joined Robin behind the bar. 

“Morning,” he greeted, lackluster. 

“Good afternoon, you mean.” She quipped back, bumping his shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting move, and Steve shot her a small smile. 

The bar was a familiar place, at least. Robin's soft emerald eyes were comforting, and the familiarity of all the patrons, a few regular faces, and tonight’s band strumming along in a quiet sound check. Steve soaked it up and just tried to stay calm as he forced himself to focus his prep work.

Steve hadn’t exactly decided what he would do when he saw Billy again, and felt entirely too unprepared when he finally saw the blond curls bouncing towards the bar. Not knowing what else to do, Steve panicked and ducked behind the bar, as if he had never been there. He then snuck around and used the crowd as a buffer before hiding in the storage room. 

While the working plan was cold shouldering the youth, it seemed his subconscious decision had selected to avoid Billy altogether. 

He never meant to be mean, but fight or flight was a strong instinct, and the sight of shining blond hair and Billy’s trademark leather jacket sent adrenalin flooding Steve’s system too fast for any rational thought process to take hold.

It didn’t take long for the routine to become obvious to Billy either. Within five or six occasions of Steve pulling off more and more ridiculous ‘escape’ plans, Billy stopped being his shadow at the bar unless necessary; and even then he only ordered drinks from Robin. Sure, he shot Steve a wounded look every once in a while, but otherwise Steve seemed to have gotten his wish for more distance from the kid. 

Billy wasn’t the only one to notice the change though. Every time Steve pulled off an elaborate escape attempt Robin would roll her eyes so hard Steve thought it must hurt a little. She had also gotten the entire staff to start calling him ‘Ninja’ much to his chargrin. 

It wasn’t the worst nickname she had ever given him, but the constant reminder of his distance to Billy felt like a twist of a knife in his heart. The whole situation was between bad and worse. 

Billy didn’t stop coming to Starwood though. In fact, he seemed to come even more frequently, and got into more fights, either because someone said the wrong thing or he danced up against the wrong guy. 

Steve was watching from his place behind the bar as Billy did just that, the same thing he had done all week; forcing all eyes on him. It wasn’t electric enough that he looked amazing bobbing along with the band, his tight jeans painted onto his legs and his hair neon in the stage lights, no he had to swig down the last of his drink before throwing a punch. 

The guy he was dancing with didn’t seem particularly hostile. Hell, he was almost the opposite. He had been touchy with his hands all over Billy’s plush ass. Steve couldn’t help himself from watching as those hands slinked into his back pocket and gave a squeeze. That’s when Billy threw the fist and Tony had to step in. 

“Take it outside, peabrains!” He roared over the music. “Sorry, Billy,” he tacked on in an attempt to stay friendly. 

The band was professional and didn’t stop playing so not everyone was looking, except for Steve who still couldn’t stop. He watched as Billy let Tony manhandle him away from the crowd and whispered something into his ear. Billy gave a short nod then turned and used the employee’s only door that let out to an ally out back. 

Steve set his hand towel aside as he felt a yearning in his heart and confusion in his head drag him to follow. 

“Stupid idea, stupid idea,” he chanted to himself as he brushed past Tony’s shoulder to get at the exit door. 

Billy stood against the brick wall of the bar, one hand pulling hard at his hair and the other one a fist against the wall. Steve walked quietly closer, taking in the way he was pulling his hair so tight it let the veins show on his forehead, and the way his knuckles were split open. His fingers wept blood, red dripping in heavy clumps to join the darker red of the bricks. 

Steve looked to see if Billy was crying himself and he let out a deep sigh when he wasn’t. 

The sound of the heavy metal door let Billy know he was there, and he snapped his head, ready for another fight. Steve knew he had to be pulling puppy dog eyes but the idea that Billy constantly was ready for a fight made his brown eyes glisten even more. 

“Come to ban me for life or some shit, Bambi?” Billy’s words were hot coals smeared across the pavement. “Oh, or should I call you Ninja?” He spit the nickname as if it was the worst thing he had ever tasted.

Steve walked a little closer, let his side lean against the brick next to Billy, and shook his head. “Please don't call me that.”

Billy ground out a laugh that was painfully fake. “Whatever you say goes. It’s your fucking joint after all.”

Then Billy finally let the painful grip he had on his hair go and punched his fist into the jagged bricks. He looked down at them, angry white knuckles ripped raw, and smiled. 

“Why did you throw a punch at that guy?” Steve asked cautiously. He turned to dip his head even closer to Billy, letting a strand of thick brown hair cover his forehead. 

Billy shrugged and turned to lean against the brick, pulling out a cigarette. He lit the tip, took a heavy drag, and didn’t look up as he replied. “Bastard said his name was Neil. Can’t stand that name.”

Steve pulled his eyebrows together in confusion. “You just laid him out because his name is Neil?”

“Why are you ignoring me?” Billy asked, still not turning his eyes. 

“I’m asking the questions. You can’t start shit like that, Tony could have thrown you on your ass!” Steve didn’t want to do this, pull cards and rank like he had any say in what Billy did. But he wanted so badly to have a say in what Billy did. “Is that the real reason? He didn’t fuck with you?” Steve added the last softer, leaning his head even closer. 

Billy took a hard drag. “Old man's name is Neil. Just couldn’t stomach someone with that asshole's name touching me is all.” 

Then he turned to look at Steve as he stomped out the half-finished smoke. The bartender's mouth was hanging open as he let Billy’s confession sink in. If Steve wasn’t already sporting a huge heart break for this kid, he for sure was now. 

Billy kept watching when Steve pulled his chin from the floor and licked his lips as he considered a reply, but before he could Billy was moving. 

He pushed off the wall and moved his arms to cage Steve in. One hand pressed his shoulders back flush against scratchy brick while the other wrapped dangerously around Steve’s pale neck.   
“Wha- what the-?” Steve’s words were cut off as Billy applied an iron pressure around his throat. 

“Now you answer my questions, pretty boy. Why are you ignoring me?”

Steve felt the grip on his throat relax to just heavy fingers. He lifted his own hands to bunch into the front of Billy’s shirt, and shuttered as he found him warm to the touch. “I don’t know,” he spoke softly. “I just can’t… with you. It’s…,” dangerous he wanted to say, but the word died in his throat. 

Billy pushed his thumb hard into the side of Steve’s neck, pushing and pressing until he felt bone, then lifted his thumb to pet along the soft skin. Steve could only swallow down spit as he watched Billy’s blue eyes rake over his every feature. Steve felt like an animal trapped, and in a horrific way it felt nice. 

“You can’t or you won't?” Billy’s voice carried a vibration from his chest down to his hand and into Steve’s skin. 

Nothing was coming to Steve’s mind as a reply, so he stayed quiet. All his thinking, all his lamenting to his record player, and when it really mattered, he just shut up and stared. 

Then with a shake of his head, Billy let him go. He dropped his hand from Steve and stepped back from the wall. In the little ally there wasn’t much space to move, so their heavy breathing still lingered. Billy’s breath smelled of cheap booze and cigarette smoke, and to Steve it was addicting. He had a look in his blue eyes Steve had never seen before, but wanted to memorize forever. 

“It’s okay, Bambi. I can hunt for you. I like a challenge.” And then he turned and left, ripping at the employee’s only door to get back into the bar.

Steve was still pressed against the wall, his chest shuttering up and down. He lifted one hand to ghost around where Billy’s fingers had been. When he pulled them back to look he could see streaked red blood the boy had left on him. 

Steve would be lying if he said he didn’t keep that feeling of Billy’s hand on his throat when he went home. He might have thought about it only once when he jacked off in the middle of the night. 

Their confrontation in the back alley didn’t sooth the tension between the two boys. No, if anything it only made it worse. 

Rather than ignore Steve while at Starwood, like Steve was ignoring him, Billy instead made eye contact with him every chance he got. Ever the cocky bastard, Billy even threw in a wink and a suggestive licking of his lips every once in a while, usually when he was about to grind up against a boy who would always look suspiciously similar to Steve. 

This was so much worse. Steve felt as if he were being tortured slowly, felt the knife in his heart twist harder and harder, felt the phantom of Billy’s hand on his throat and the smell of his breath when he leaned close. It felt like he tumbled down to the mad hatters tea party. 

This particular night was no different than the ones preceding it. Billy had strutted in, wearing his usual outfit of too tight pants and a well loved brown leather jacket, also sporting a new earring that caught the dim lighting everytime he moved his head. Steve turned away grumbling to himself about how he recognized Billy’s collection of earrings enough to know when there was a new one. 

Robin leaned over the bar to talk with Billy, sliding him a tall glass of beer and a smile. Billy lifted two fingers up in a salute before turning to the floor. 

“He called me Captain,” Robin came over to nudge her elbow into Steve’s ribs. “He says I run the place.”

“Wasn’t what he said the other night,” Steve barks back and doesn’t even realize he said it before it’s too late. His own eyes grow wide right alongside Robin’s pretty green ones. 

“Ohh,” she dragged the word out long. “Oh I see. Stevie is getting himself messed up with a little jailbait?”

“Fuck off Robin. It’s not like that.”

“Oh so it’s not a situation where you’re desperately pining after a minor, but he’s making it impossible for you to move on? That’s not what this is?” Her eyes were wide and curious, not a strip of judgement, still Steve felt himself shrinking under them. 

“It’s not. Drop it, okay?” Steve put his hands on his hips to ground himself to where he was, behind the bar, 21 and in college, not in love with a 17 year old. 

Robin looked at him like she didn’t believe it. But she did turn and leave him alone. 

That’s when another man pushed himself against the bar. He was older, slightly, but still bedside handsome. Long brown hair styled back out of his face and a squared jawline that was already wet with kiss marks. Steve rolled his eyes at the other man's eager smile, but still leaned forward to listen to his order. 

“I need a Dirty Shirley, I’m trying to get laid tonight!” He added with a wink. Something about that didn’t feel right, his eyes too narrow and predatory for simple flirting. 

Steve kept the shivers on the back of his neck down enough to smile back and start making the drink. He didn’t make it quite as strong as the guy was dreaming he would, though. Bartender’s discretion was a small victory. 

Steve slid the Dirty Shirley on a napkin across the wood of the bar and the man slipped him a fat bill. At least this guy wasn’t creepy and broke, Steve thought as he took the bill and worked it into the register. But something was still off. Steve couldn’t stop the anxious feeling in his gut and kept watching the man, subtly glancing from the corner of his eyes, when he saw it. 

The man held the napkin bunched in his hand doing his best to block it, a professional move, but Steve had been working the bar for a while and had learned to notice these kinds of things. He could see the corner of a slip of paper dip into the liquid of the drink. A fine line of white power fell so quickly and dissolved into the liquid faster than Steve could register it, that is if he wasn’t looking for it. 

The man crumbled his envelope and the napkin into a ball quickly then shoved both inside his pocket. When Steve turned to hand back his change, the man was stirring the drink around with its straw. Their eyes met for a tick, Steve’s smile was gone from his face, and the man had the audacity to wink again. 

And that had Steve angry. He gripped his fists against the bar and watched the man walk back into the crowd, obviously stalking his target for the night, Steve was going to be damned if he allowed that, hand already reaching for the bat they had decided to keep under the bar after the last incident like this a couple months ago. 

He watched as the man went to a standing table on the side of the stage, a small black table with two tall chairs, where he raked his thin fingers over the swollen biceps of another boy sitting there waiting for him.

Then Steve’s heart sank as golden sun bleached curls bounced as the boy turned to accept the drink. He saw soft tan hands wrap around the cold glass and take a long swig. Steve saw Billy, his Billy, smile at the douchebag like he wasn’t just drugged. 

And then Steve only saw red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliff hanger you guys I’m so so sorry about it!! New chapter next week ;) thanks for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to rant and scream in the comments, or come find me on tumblr [here](https://harringrovetrashh.tumblr.com) or catharrington [here](https://catharrington.tumblr.com).


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